Whumptober 2019- Shaky Hands
by Frankie McStein
Summary: If Magnum could just get his hands to stop shaking he was sure he could get them some help


.Magnum's head throbbed as he tried to force his eyes open. His neck and shoulders were on fire, and it took a long couple of seconds before he could remember why. The tire had blown out, sending the Ferrari careening across the road. He knew exactly which tire, too. He had been putting off getting it replaced for a few weeks now, his bank balance not giving him a huge amount of choice in the matter.

He let his head fall back against the seat, eyes still closed. Seat belt locks were great until you needed to move after getting stopped by one. He tried to hit the release button without opening his eyes, but somehow, despite having performed the action so many times it should have been muscle memory by now, he kept missing. He gave it up as a bad idea and took a second to just breathe instead. Higgins was gonna kill him when she found…

His heart jumped in his chest, and he tried to force the seatbelt to let go of him, tried to reach over to the passenger seat, the realization that Higgins had been in the car with him pushing everything else out of his mind. Once again, he found himself pinned to the seat, the wretched belt performing its job admirably and stopping him from moving. He could see Higgy, though; her head was slumped on her chest. The airbags had inflated, so she must have been thrown into the bottom edge of the window frame when the car spun. At least, that was the only explanation he could think of for the blood that was dripping sluggishly onto her jeans.

_'Head wounds bleed,'_ he told himself. _'They're famous for it.' _But he couldn't quite quell the panic and fumbled with his seat belt again.

This time, he realized his hands were shaking, and he tried to take a deep breath, tried to steady himself. _'Shock,'_ he thought firmly, refusing to entertain the idea it might be something more dire. Higgy needed him; she couldn't afford for him to be badly injured. He tipped his head down and watched as his hand found the seatbelt and followed it down to the buckle. He had to wrap his fingers around it for a moment as his vision blurred slightly.

Finally, after so many more attempts than it should have taken, he felt the button sink and heard the clunk of the seatbelt releasing. He immediately turned and reached out to Higgins, only to sway as the world went black around him. He tried to catch himself and stop his body from slumping at an awkward, painful angle between the two seats, but his trembling hands betrayed him once again.

It took what felt like hours to pull himself back upright. If Higgins had responded when he'd called her name, he probably wouldn't have bothered. But she stayed disturbingly still and quiet, even as he raised his voice loud enough to make himself wince. He thought be might have to admit that he was a lot worse off than 'slightly shocky,' but not just yet. Not while he had no idea if Higgy was still alive.

Straightening up was hellish. His body wasn't happy with the whole 'obstructing-forward-momentum' thing afforded by the Ferrari's seatbelts and wasn't being shy about letting him know.

"Getting pitched out the car would have been worse," he grumbled, as if he could reason with his own nerve endings. Still, he made it back to a sitting position eventually. He slumped back, exhausted by the effort it had taken to get his hands to bear his weight. The tremors were visible, his hands in constant motion. He started for a second before stretching out.

He'd learned his lesson at least; his head stayed resting against the seat, and he rolled his eyes to follow his hand as it moved toward Higgins' neck. A ridiculous swell of pride and achievement rose up as he pressed two fingers against the thin skin. And then faded as he realized his hand was shaking so badly he couldn't feel her pulse. He pressed harder, ignoring the voice that immediately started screaming that she was dead, that he had killed her, that he would never get to argue with her again. He held his breath and tensed his aching, burning muscles as he tried to stop shaking long enough to feel for a pulse.

_'You'll never know if you could have been more than friends because she's dead and it's all your fault,'_ hissed the little voice that Magnum absolutely wasn't listening to. A flutter beneath his fingers caught his attention. He was pressing far too hard against Higgins' neck; in normal circumstances he would be worried about hurting her, but he could feel her pulse, even through the trembling in his hand, and the relief was dizzying.

Okay, he was still shaking like a leaf, and she was still unconscious, but they were both alive. _She_ was alive. That was the important thing. He let his hand drop; it landed on her thigh, but he didn't think she would mind. His eyes slipped closed as the pain suddenly surged through him, and it took a conscious effort not to tighten his fist and squeeze her leg. He thought she probably would object to that.

As his heart rate picked up in response to the burning that was running across his chest, he wondered how long it would take for someone to drive past and find them.

_'Phone,'_ his mind supplied helpfully, but he couldn't figure out what it meant. His phone wasn't ringing. He wasn't sure he would be able to hear it over the roaring in his ears but he'd feel it vibrating in his… Oh! It was in his pocket! Simplest thing in the world; hand in pocket, retrieve phone, dial… well, anyone. Except his hands still didn't want to cooperate.

The shaking seemed to get worse as he tried to force his hand to move. He could feel his whole arm trying to get in on the act and tried desperately to fight the urge to just sit and shake helplessly. He just needed to do this one thing first. He just needed to make this one phone call. That was it. Just stop his hands shaking long enough to get and use his phone.

So why was he finding it so hard? His fingers kept touching his pocket then catching on it, sliding down the outside instead of slipping in. He tried again, moving slowly, telling himself not to rush, and managed to get his hand inside his pocket and his fingers wrapped around the phone. Now he just needed to hold it tight and lift it. Something he had done without thinking countless times. Something he was sure he could do now if he just focused and moved slowly and carefully.

He pulled his arm in tight against his side, ignoring the pain that blossomed at the pressure, and dragged his phone over his leg rather than trying to lift it through the air. Once it safely in his lap, he gave himself a mental pat on the back and mumbled a quiet 'attaboy.'

Before he could wake the phone, something flashed in front of him and his eyes instinctively lifted and tried to scan the area. Lights, he decided. Pretty shade of blue. Oh, no, red. They were red. No wait, definitely blue. It took so long for him to realize what he was seeing that an EMT was leaning over him before the word 'ambulance' popped into his mind.

"I was just about to call you guys," Magnum said, wondering if he had dialed without realizing.

"Someone saw you leave the road and called for you." The EMT sounded friendly, but Magnum wasn't interested. He had worked so hard to get his phone, and someone else had beaten him to it. And he'd really been looking forward to having Higgy say 'attaboy' too.


End file.
